


Red Skies Ahead

by viske



Category: Vinland Saga (Anime), Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:16:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21770881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viske/pseuds/viske
Summary: It wasn’t love. It was companionship. It was a warm hand and body for a man who’d not felt tenderness since childhood and a sense of agency for a man who’d led his entire life believing he had none.A series of vignettes of when Thorfinn and Canute found comfort in one another.
Relationships: Canute/Thorfinn (Vinland Saga)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 180





	1. The Trees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm literally obsessed with Vinland Saga right now and Thorfinn/Canute has so much potential as characters and as a relationship, this fic just sorta fell out of me.
> 
> I haven't read the manga yet, I hope I haven't got anything completely out of whack. D:

This place wasn’t new to him, it was like many places he’d visited before, in dreams or perhaps in childhood. The sprawling landscape was raw and untouched for miles with sharp cliffs that dug into the failing sun forcing it puncture and wither upon them. As they moved through the snow, a caravan of fur and metal bathed in dying light, the trees stood deftly above them as if daring them to look up. The trees with their noxious barren branches somehow stood taller than they did in childhood, even though he’d grown with them in the time he’d been away. Barren branches that cast their long shadows of iron bars across the horde and the prince. 

He’d spent 18 years of life, bound, bound in furs and silk, bound by cautious words and hushed whispers, bound by the notion that if his blood was to spill, it would bleed molten gold. 

He’d longed to long of freedom. 

He watched the face of freedom doze, thick with mud and battle scars. Blonde hair, not unlike his own stood in thick dirty tufts. At this moment Thorfinn looked peaceful, like he was not fighting a constant battle, but instead had finished one. But It wasn’t jealousy, the feeling that burned in his stomach, or the poorly made meade he’d drunk to stave off the cold. It was fear. 

Freedom suddenly felt like drowning in air as he lay naked in a snowstorm. It was overwhelming and forgien to the point of disbelief. He’d seen the cost of freedom. The cost of freedom was the trail of dead left by the footsteps of the hoard, the torn flesh and gangrenous wounds. The inability to sleep without a knife by your side or the fear you’d have one plunged into you. 

This kind of freedom was not the one he dreamed of in childhood. Freedom bound by the shackles of war and greed was not freedom at all. But he was no man to change this, he couldn’t even to begin to swap his own binds for the binds of barbaric freedom. 

He no longer, longed to long of freedom. 

Thorfinn bundled down into his threadbare cape before waking with a start. He looked around groggily as the permanent look of anger returned to his face. He hadn't meant to fall asleep when on guard of Prince Canute, but the sway of the cart must have felt like fine furs and the touch of a woman to a man who’d walking for as long as he could remember. 

Thorfinn’s amber eyes glowed molten in the dying light. 

“What y’looking at princess?”, Thorfinn’s tone was groggy but was still laced with it’s usual intensity. 

There were a multitude of things Canute wanted to say but couldn’t. He wanted to know what he was doing here, he was strong and young and handsome. Why choose a life bringing nothing but bitterness to others?

Thorfinn glared at Canute through the backdrop of wet footprints like he wanted Canute to ask him something.

He looked around for Ragnar, who was nowhere in the immediate vicinity.

“Why-why do you want to be?” he mustered without much consideration to the answer or that Thorfinn would even answer at all.

“I don’t, same as you,” he grumbled.

Canute nodded but didn’t understand but Thorfinn truly unnerved him enough to stop him pressing for clarification.

They arrived in a small Welsh village, which to Askeladd’s insistence was devoid of bloodshed. Canute was put in one of the houses towards the centre of the town. It was small, smelled like death and hay and was no means fit for a prince, with cold stone walls and no light other than a small fire that burned in the centre of the one room.

Ragnar had gone to complain and find something more suitable, build a shelter over the cart if they had to. 

Canute didn’t care, he was too exhausted to care. He was too exhausted to do anything aside from stare into the embers of the tiny fire and wonder what God’s plan was for all of this. 

The door swung open, crashing against the wet slate.

“Here,” Thorfinn threw a bundle of furs in Canute’s direction, narrowly missing the fire.

“Be careful!” Canute barked as he just managed to catch the flying animal skins. There was something intrinsically commanding about the blonde’s tone, like it’d been lying in wait just beneath his tongue. 

Thorfinn’s eyes opened in shock at Canute’s outburst, like the previous time it’d happened, “Or what you’ll have to sleep on the floor like the rest of us?”

Canute could feel himself rescind back into his cloak. 

“- Are?” he pointed towards the patch of empty earth on the other side of the fire where he’d laid his furs. 

Thorfinn mumbled and sat himself down in front of the fire, “I have to protect you, remember?”

Canute followed suit and sat down opposite the smaller man. They both leaned into the fire, the light crackling managing to offset the jovial shouting from outside and the occasional clang of metal on metal. The sounds almost made Canute jump but Thorfinn’s eyes on him through the flames was enough to suppress that urge. 

In the lull, where all was quiet for a moment, Canute could hear Thorfinn’s breathing. He felt as if he was trapped in this room with a wolf. It’s form familiar but the capacity to attack at any moment. But, under all that, perhaps there could be vestiges of a friend. 

On the other side of the fire pit, Thorfinn was hunched over himself, drinking from a slack flask, hissing as the alcohol burned at the back of his throat. 

“Are you going to say anything?” Thorfinn asked, his mouth turned up into a snarl.

He stood up above the flames, even with his small stature he still managed to be imposing, looking down at Canute he said, “Drink this.”

Leaning over the fire he dropped the flask into his lap, his thick red cape cushioning the fall. He was used to drinking wine from great halls but this was better than being sober in the cold.

He hissed as he took his first gulp, “ _Disgusting_.”

Thorfinn scoffed in a way that was almost a laugh.

Holding his nose and squeezing his eyes tightly, Thorfinn took two long drinks of the unknown liquid before standing and handing back to a slightly aghast looking Thorfinn. Once the exchange was completed they both sat again in their respective seats, one in fine furs and the other on damp Welsh soil. 

Feeling a boldness that he could only ever achieve with alcohol Canute asked, “Yesterday, when you said you were like me, what did you mean by that?”

There was no immediate reaction from the smaller blonde, only a silence that hung between them that Canute could only guess what sounds would fill it next. 

Thorfinn took further swigs of the offending liquid and looked pensively into the flames, before catching Canute’s prying eye. He tapped at his chin in thought. 

“You have the kind of face that makes a man want to tell you his secrets, you know that?” He slurred, before breaking into a smile that looked more the grimace of an angry dog. 

“Who would I tell your secrets to?” Canute let out, a little breathlessly. 

Thorfinn leaned back onto his elbows, “Nobody would care anyway”

“That must be nice, to be a nobody” mumbled Canute, who drew his legs upto his chest to preserve the little warmth in his chest, “Unfortunately, I am bound to be my father’s son”

Thorfinn’s face went blank again, the softness from the warmth of the fire and the alcohol had been replaced by a stern blank mask, “As am I.”

Canute’s face mirrored Thorfinn’s expressionless stare, terrified if he let anything go this unguarded moment they’d built would burn up in the flames between them. 

“My father was the Troll of Jom”

Canute had heard the stories of the Jomsvikings, the strongest and most ruthless Norse warriors. He’d also heard of their strongest fighter, the father of the man half laid down in the dirt in front of him.

He nodded, keeping his surprise well hidden, “That is why you’re such a strong fighter-”

“I learned nothing from him,” he took another swig and inhaled the anger through his teeth, “He was killed by the leader of these men, who then took me prisoner.”

“Askeladd?”

Thorfinn nodded deftly, “That’s why I must kill him.”

Canute’s blue eyes widened.

“Like I said, nobody cares about my secrets” Thorfinn drew his dagger and looked at the reflection of the fire on its surface, “He knows that one day I will kill him and I’ll leave this life behind me.”

Canute could see his own reflection in the dagger for a moment.

“What will you do?”

“Not this.”

“Your father didn’t want you to be a warrior?”

“No,” Thorfinn responded resolutely, before throwing his dagger into the wood of the door, “I had to fight, to survive and to kill that bastard for what he did.”

Bravely and without thinking, Canute responded“Are you not worried you’ve disappointed him?”

Thorfinn lunged forward, even across the fire, but his clothes were too damp to catch alight. Gabbing Canute’s cloak by the neck he pulled the larger boy towards him and placed the tip of his other blade into the porcelain skin of Canute’s neck.

“Watch your mouth, maybe it’s better when you don’t speak,” 

Thorfinn’s hand gripped tighter in his clothes pulling at the crucifix around Canute’s neck.

“I'm sorry-” Canute panicked and tried to push the other man off him to no avail, in fact Thorfinn’s grip tightened and the blade’s tip held steadfast, “I’m a better listener than I am a talker and you seemed like you needed, uh wanted to talk.”

Thorfinn looked suddenly panicked, amber eyes wide like Canute’s had been milliseconds earlier. 

“I don’t need to talk” he responded, somewhat weakly as if he was still trying to convince himself of it.

He dropped the dagger by Canute’s side and pulled the taller blonde into him, their mouths crushed together.

Canute could feel the panic and anger seering through Thorfinn as their mouths met. Thorfinn pulled Canute closer into him, his teeth catching his lower lip. And when Canute could taste blood he could also taste the catharsis melting between the two of them. Canute pulled his arms around the Viking and melted into the kiss. Before Thorfinn pulled away, flush and breathless but with a kind of serenity on his face that Canute had only seen when he was sleeping.

“I knew that pretty face of yours would get to me,” Thorfinn shook his head and unhandled Canute’s collar and moved to the other side of the dwindling fire again and lead down to face away from the prince. 

The room still buzzed between them, the remnants of the kiss filled the atmosphere. 

“If you say anything like that again I’ll throw you to the men out there, in the dark they don’t care if you’re a prince.”


	2. The Kind River

The world was a very small place, for most people the bounds of their world were outlined by the fences of their village. For some, it was bounds of forests and rivers, their worlds stretched to as far as the does ran and the fish swam. For Vikings, the world stretched to foreign lands, carried by ships across wild seas. As much as the horizons changed, there was only one thing on everyone’s mind, survival and for these people, everyone had at least a hand in their own survival.

Canute didn’t feel like he had a hand in his own survival, he was a pawn of the kingdom. He was quiet and cautious, not stupid. He was floating a river, and his father was the current, and the armies and bandits were the sharp rocks just beneath the surface. If he was told to drown, he’d drown.

But after what he’d just seen in Mercia, the blood that soaked through white snow, perhaps he’d been a little naive. A hand in survival will never beat the sword.

He sat at the table of a house that just hours before had been undisturbed and happy, the food on the table was almost warm, vestiges of a life filled the small house. The moments passed in silence and the vestiges began to tighten around him like vengeful ghosts.

 _Why didn’t you stop them?_ The ghosts sobbed in his ear.

Canute felt sick.

Bolting from his seat he ran through the door and out into the blistering wind. His head spun and his stomach churned in his throat. Stray ice stung at his face as he tried to move around in the snow, he struggled toward a lone tree to steady himself. Long golden strands tangled themselves around his face and neck in the wind, sticking to his wet and raw skin.

There was suddenly a presence behind him and a hand on his shoulder. He flinched but settled into Ragnar’s comforting touch, as he always did.

“Are you going to throw up?” The question was only just decipherable over the whistling of the wind through leafless branches.

He shook his head but as he did so the contents of his stomach splattered against the fresh snow. The hand was removed from his back and grabbed at his hair, holding it back from his face.

“Thank-you Ragnar,” Canute spat before grabbing a fresh mound of snow and shoving it into his mouth.

“Don’t tell me I look like Cone Head?” There was an odd kind of look in Thorfinn’s eyes, not quite the tenderness he expected from Ragnar but not the kind of blanket anger that was usually there.

Canute swiped at his mouth with uncharacteristic inelegance, “Thankyou Thorfinn,” and went to hand place his on Thorfinn’s neck and cheek in gratitude.

Thorfinn’s face was burning in the seconds before he managed to touch it. Canute could feel the heat return to his own frozen hand before Thorfinn released the bundle of golden hair in his hand and snapped away from the prince.

“Please stay with me” Canute croaked, his throat raw. “I mean, in _that_ house, I mean you wouldn’t be a very good bodyguard if you got frostbite.”

“Tsk, I'd still be a better fighter than most of these men with one arm, ” Thorfinn’s cheeks and the tips of his nose were blistering and he flexed his exposed hands whilst trying to make up his mind.

With a grunt he gestured for Canute to take the first steps back inside, “Maybe if you’d learn to fight rather than knit you wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.”

Canute had learned to fight. He was quiet and cautious, not stupid. He’s not sure he’d ever get used to blood and death, it all seemed so unnecessary and wasteful.

Thorfinn closed the door behind them and waited for Canute to take a seat at the table he’d run away from just fifteen minutes earlier.

Canute involuntarily screwed up his nose.

“Do you get used to it?” He asked the smaller man, somewhat absentmindedly.

Thorfinn scoffed and leaned against the peat and straw wall, “Oh I am worthy of your words now?”

Disregarding that statement, Canute pressed on, wondering really if there was a man out there that could see corpses like grass on the ground and truly feel like cutting a man down was as simple and as easy as chopping firewood, “Do you get used to it?”

“What?”

Canute began to spoon and pour cold porridge from the unrefined clay bowl and back on itself again whilst he mused, “The death, the smell, the sounds”

“Yes,” the affirmation came somewhat disconnected from the two men in the room like it was a word that had fallen from neither of their lips.

Canute didn’t want to believe that was true. He wanted to believe the world wasn’t an inherently vile place. There were vile things that existed within it, and unfortunately, the older he got and the more he experienced, he began to think that humans, and he included in them, were one of those vile things.

He pulled himself up from the table and laid down on the makeshift platform, in the furs that felt so out of place in a place like this.

But here they were again, by the fire, a moment so far removed from the atrocities of the evening, the atrocities of both their lives. As he stared into the orange flames, serenity washed over him, he waited, casting a spell on the moment, asking it to last.

Time passed until Canute was on the cusp of sleep, his eyes felt heavy on his face. Falling asleep was the only time where he’d felt truly peaceful for most of his life. He’d always wondered if dying perhaps felt the same.

However, just as his eyes fell closed there was a meek interruption from the other side of the room.

“You want to get used to it, but you don’t, not really”

Canute tried to gather his thoughts from the cliff of unconsciousness.

“Any man who says they’re used to it are lying”

As he understood what had been said, he realised that the words came as a shock from Thorfinn, the boy raised in a pool of his father’s blood and hardened by revenge. Canute had noticed the quiver in his voice and wondered when the last time someone on this earth had heard that noise if anyone had even heard it at all.

For some unknown reason, Canute felt a little less lonely.

“Are you cold?” He asked Thorfinn, who after his outburst had gone very quiet in a poorly lit section of the room.

His response was slow and calculated, “I’m fine.”

Canute turned onto his back and spoke into the night with a clarity like the stars on a perfect night, “I didn’t ask you if you were fine, I’m sure you would tell me you’re fine if your limbs were hanging off at your joints, I asked if you were cold.”

For once Thorfinn seemed surprised, Canute could tell by the way he’d exhaled from his nose, Canute had become very good at reading the silence over the years. Certain kinds of silence could tell him multitudes that even words couldn’t.

“Yes,” The word came slowly and meekly, like each letter had to fight itself into fruition.

Canute made the decision with his heart in his throat and a churning in his stomach that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Perhaps the decision came to him too quickly and without his usual consideration for the consequences, “Come here.”

“No,” again, the letters fought in thick air, “I don’t _need_ your help.”

“I’m offering it,” he spoke with as much of a leader’s sternness as he could emulate, “You helped me before”

“S’my duty,” said Thorfinn with an air of sarcasm that’d be undetectable to someone who hadn’t spent any time with the blonde.

Canute flipped one of the furs open expectantly.

“Do you get a kick out of being a brat? I preferred it when you didn’t talk”

Canute rolled onto his side to face Thorfinn again, “I’d prefer it if you didn’t freeze to death.”

Standing up Thorfinn wandered over, somewhat hesitant for a man who'd spent his entire life knowing exactly what he was doing and why he was doing it, “The men would kill me if they find out. ”

“They’d be jealous or angry?” Canute asked, looking up at his small companion.

“As you said before, I’m not a prince in the dark”

Thorfinn suddenly moved closer, “No not of you, of the-” and bundled the brown bear fur into his hand, stroking it over with his thumb, somewhat awestruck.

Canute rolls his lips together, “I am joking.” and Thorfinn looks about as confused as a man who’d never laughed before in his life.

After a second of what was likely to be hesitation, Thorfinn got into the furs besides Canute. When the weight settled besides him he realised that Thorfinn smelled more pleasant than Canute expected.

He'd never shared a bed before and the smaller body beside him was so foreign, it was something he’d never experienced in his life. Thorfinn was stiff beside him, making an effort to stay out of the prince’s way.

Even though he was faced away from him, and his mess of blonde hair obscured the view, Canute could see the smattering of scarring on Thorfinn’s face illuminated white in the dying fire, and wondered what kinds of scars the rest of his body harboured underneath mildewed furs and leathers. Canute thought about the last time someone had touched Thorfinn with tenderness, was it a feeling so long forgotten that he only had memories of memories of a gentle hand on his body.

Canute felt a sadness for his bed partner, a guilt churning in him like sour milk. The world could have turned out differently, why was Thorfinn the one to have known the sharp tip of the world when it could have just had easily been him. But then, in his guilt and rumination he wondered if he’d ever been touched himself without malice or insidious intent by anyone other than Ragnar. At least until this evening when his felt Thorfinn's hand in his hair. 

He wanted to touch the scars on Thorfinn's face, carefully enough to prove to both of them that there could be tenderness in the world.

But instead he asked, “Are you lonely, Thorfinn?” his voice quiet and low.

He didn’t answer and led quietly on his back by Canute’s side.

Canute wasn't sure how much time has passed since he’d fallen asleep, but it was enough for the once ample fire to have burnt down to little more than fledgling embers. The room bathed in a dark orange glow that feels like the last bastion of the night, creeping its way into the day.

There was a searing warmth across his entire body and a tightness that loosened the anxiety that riddled through his veins. He found Thorfinn’s arms wrapped tightly around his chest. The other both was close enough for him to feel his ragged sleeping breaths on his nose and see the wet trails of tears on Thorfinn’s cheeks. He touched the tracks of the tears lightly and felt the tight skin of the scar tissue beneath his fingertips.

Then, once again, Thorfinn drew their lips together. The kiss was riddled with the same catharsis and desperation as the first time but this time it was filled with something else - a desperate kind of longing that Canute recognised in himself too. The kiss was tear stained and desperately tried to fill the void of years of love that the both of them had torn away.

Thorfinn had yet to open his eyes when Canute parted his lips and Thorfinn’s tongue entered hesitantly. The kiss was careful and gentle, exploring a sort of kindness that neither of them had experienced before.

For the second time in the evening, Canute cast a spell on the moment, asking it to last.

Canute moved his head slightly and broke the kiss before Thorfinn pulled him close again with purposeful gentless.

“ _Please,_ ” he muttered in an almost dream like state and settled his head into Canute’s chest.


	3. The Broken Pot

Canute had always liked cities. There was something about the way that every house and person slot together tightly making the perfect cover for him to fit through the cracks. When he was younger he and Ragnar used to visit the cities together, he’d sit on his shoulders and watch the world go by below him. Each road, each person had something else to offer him. When he was a child on Ragnar’s shoulders, he wasn’t a prince. He was just a boy lost and hidden in the chaos of the city. 

When they arrived in Gainsborough, he wasn’t sure if he still felt the same way. This time the crowds feel less comforting and more suffocating. Perhaps it was to do with the fact he wasn’t with Ragnar, no, he wasn’t with anyone he trusted. Thorkell and Askeladd towered beside him, their presence being more unnerving than comforting. 

Thorkell, for the most part, was as harmless as a seven foot killing machine could be. Canute could tell that he was loyal, treated his men and the man he’d chosen to serve with respect. So long as they didn’t wrong each other, Thorkell was a man he wanted on his side. 

Askeladd was different. Askeladd was cunning. The only person he had on his side was himself. Canute could tell he was the kind of man who’d claim to be on the same team, but in fact would be playing a completely different game. It’s not that he only didn’t trust him, he didn’t want to. 

There was a disturbance in the people in the narrow street ahead of the group. He glanced over to Thorfinn, who’d recently rejoined the group after darting through the crowds ahead. Thorfinn’s emotions were incredibly easy to read, much to Thorfinn’s own dismay. Usually he’d hide them, poorly, but this time was different, this time Thorfinn let every ounce of concern penetrate his small face. 

Something was definitely wrong.

Canute dipped his head lower to cover his eyes with the hood and his heart started pounding. Thorfinn pulled at the back of the tarpe covering Canute’s recognizable cape. Keeping calm, he patted Thorfinn on the shoulder. 

“Sorry!” Thorkell boomed as a elderly lady bumped into him and Canute’s heart shot to his throat but he managed to keep his face undeterred and stoic.

Askeladd stopped and the crowd parted around him like a stone in a river. He turned back to the group and looked for Canute’s gaze. 

“I think we should go to see the king right away, if I can get a good look at his face we know where we stand”

“Thank-you Askeladd,” Canute’s face and voice held steadfast, “but I’d like to freshen up before seeing my Father.”

Askeladd’s face twitched fast enough that if he wasn’t watching everything he did through a magnifying glass, he would have missed it. The twitch gave way to a smile, which knowing what Askeladd was capable of, was even more unnerving. 

Then Canute made the mistake of lifting his head, exposing his ocean blue eyes and the golden strands of hair that fell around them. A young woman’s stare lingered, long enough for it to become problematic. 

Before she could tug on the sleeve of the woman she was travelling with Canute placed his hand on Thorfinn’s shoulder, “Thorfinn, come with me”

“Yes, your highness”

“I think it would be best if we stuck together, we don’t know what your father is planning.” Askeladd offered to no avail. 

“It will be more inconspicuous if just the two of us go, I don’t want to be spotted.”

Askeladd nodded and let the two of them leave. The last this Canute saw of them was Thorkell’s bare forearms braced upon his hips. 

Canute moved quickly ahead with Thorfinn trailing behind, he darted through the crowds, keeping his head low, before grabbing Thorfinn by the wrist and pulling him into an alley. Despite it being just off the main street, the alley was surprisingly quiet asides from the ominous dripping from the second floor window and the sound of two rats scuffling not far away. Openings with makeshift doors and coverings littered the alleway. 

“If you want to be inconspicuous, you should cut your hair, or wear a dress,” Thorfinn’s chide remarks had become less biting in the past weeks, the words were filled with less malice everyday. 

“Shh!”

Canute listened carefully for movement behind the first door. There was a distinct wail of a baby and he moved onto the next opening. There was no noise this time and Canute slipped a finger beneath the tarp and peered inside. 

"In here" hissed Canute. 

Thorfinn stood outside for a second before being pulled into the room by the wrist. The room was small and its purpose was unclear. The rows of spears on the wall indicated it might be a guard post, or at least a storage room. 

Canute leaned himself against the spears, their handles rolling uncomfortably into his spine and back out again, “I don’t trust him.”

“Who?” Thorfinn asked like an owl at midnight,

Canute could feel something like anger sear across his chest. 

“That guy we passed on the way here, the one with the crutch-” Canute spat at a still confused looking Thorfinn. 

“Why what-”

He folded his arms and took a pace away from the rolling wood behind him, “Askeladd, I don’t trust Askeladd.”

“Oh,” It clearly all made sense to Thorfinn now, “Well he did kill Raganar.”

“Yes to get me to,” he paused, “I don’t know what,” his voice grew speculative, “But I can’t help but feel that his plan worked” 

Rapping his fingers on his clothed elbow he leaned toward Thorfinn, “What do you think he’s planning? What’s he done in the past?”

Thorfinn simply shrugged before laying his cast arm on the back of the singular chair in the room. 

Canute scoffed and shook his head. Thorfinn may be the most trustworthy of his compainions but he was surely the most stupid. Years of wanting revenge had dulled every whim other than anger in the boy. 

“Are you that blinded by rage that you forgot to even observe the man you want to kill?” Canute stepped forward again, the anger in his voice so ready to pop out he wasn’t sure he could contain it any longer, “Learning his patterns does help with things like that.”

“Watch it,” Thorfinn hissed, his voice low and dangerous. 

“Both of us are just pawns in whatever game he’s playing”

“I’m nobody's pawn!” 

“I think you are, why don’t you think you’ve managed to kill him by now he’s been stringing you along-”

Canute was interrupted by Thorfinn’s hand in his cloak, he twisted until Canute could feel his own breath wheeze. The last time they’d been in this situation, Thorfinn had kissed him. He could feel the same charge between again, he wanted Thorfinn to close the gap, but he knew that in this instance it was his gap to close. Thorfinn held him there for second more, his short, yet muscular arm not wavering. 

Canute could feel his heart under Thorfinn’s grip on his throat and his eyes had the same intensity as that night. Canute had always said he’s not a coward, but maybe he’d been wrong. 

“Thorfinn take your hand off me,” Thorfinn released him instantly, perhaps somewhat reluctantly. Canute spoke honestly, “I’m sorry for berating you, I’m angry and I’m frustrated and I’m not really sure how to express it.”

Anger was an unnecessary and ugly emotion. Anger got his mother hit by his father, anger started wars and killed thousands. He’d never known what to do with anger until it was there, fizzing at his fingertips like lye burns on his skin. Ragnar had never taught him how to deal with anger, most of the time he swallowed it down, forgot about it or successfully turned it into another emotion. Canute had always taught himself that even sadness was better than anger. Yet now, he felt angry all the time. His face remained stoic and calm, but just beneath it there was almost two decades worth of emotions just begging to be let out. 

“How does that not surprise me,” Thorfinn jibed, “Throw something, or fight something, that always works for me.”

Canture didn’t want to be the cause of any more destruction than necessary, “No-”

“I can’t help you then,” Thorfinn drew back the curtain and began to head out before Canute picked up the nearest throwable thing in his vancity and launched it at Thorfinn.

The throw was cack-handed and completely off target and the small clay pipe shattered somewhere out into the alleyway.

The anger is instantly replaced by regret before it’s replaced with frustration again. 

Thorfinn stopped in his tracks, clearly apprceiatting the effort by the petulant prince, “You could always fuck something, someone, I’m sure there’s a girl in this town that’d be happy to do it,”

He turned to face Canute who was now leaning against the table that once supported Canute’s projectile. 

“Or a man I don’t care,”

The words were very choice, Canute thought. 

He pulled his hair around his finger and twirled, a habit he’d only do when he was nervous, “I don’t think finding a random person to have sex with would help with me trying to keep a low profile, as we said before I’m not exactly plain looking.”

“That’s true and if you’ve got years of pent up anger, it wouldn’t be fair to release that onto just anyone.” The tone in Thorfinn’s voice was almost jovielle, it was strange but entirely welcome. 

“I didn’t take you for the empathetic type,”

Thorfinn shrugged, “I just think it’d be best if you fucked someone with a little more battle experience, _ just incase _ ” he moved between Canute’s parted legs and pulled him downward, “although by the force you threw that bowl I think we are being overly cautious.” 

Thorfinn laughed and Canute stood upright again in fiegend annoyance, before Thorfinn pulled him down again. 

“What do you get out of it?” Canute asked, genuinely curious, with Thorfinn’s breath hot against him.

“I’m angry too,”

Thorfinn clamped his hand around Canute’s jaw and pulled his face close so their eyes met. Suddenly Canute couldn’t breathe, like a tiger caught in trap, a hunter being hunted. Thorfinn parted his lips slightly and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. His eyes flitted over Canute’s face. From newly exposed skin of his forehead to the newly formed freckles spattered across his nose. Canute’s jaw tensed under his grip, a bulge of muscle forming underneath his Thorfinn’s thumb.

He could feel the tension in Thorfinn’s arm and could see the tautness in his chest. They were dangerously close, their breath mixed like smoke and steam. Thorfinn caressed Canute’s jaw with the heel of his thumb. Canute wanted nothing more than for Thorfinn to tilt his head backwards and leave a trail of bruised kisses down his neck.

Thorfinn loosened his grip and traced his fingers under Canute’s chin, slightly at first, carasseing over the bulge of his adam’s apple,Canute gulped slowly under his touch. He traced Canute down his sternum, gradually getting firmer as he went. He absent mindedly bit his lower lip as he traced the line he was going to leave bruised kisses on. Canute’s breath hitched as he paused mid chest. He lifted his head and looked Canute dead in the eyes. Those blue eyes quivered with anticipation, begging Thorfinn to keep going .

For some reason a laugh bubbleed in Canute’s throat, he contained it well, not breaking the tension. He couldn’t believe he was here. Here in a back room off of a back alley in Gainsborough. Here with a Viking’s palm splayed across his chest, causing his heart to jump sporadically between stopping and beating so erratically that he thought he was going to drop dead.

Suddenly Thorfinn pushed, hard. Canute stumbled backwards narrowly missing the chair and strode towards him, hunger in his eyes and backed Canute into the wall of spears behind him. Then Thorfinn’s hand was bundled so tightly in his tunic he could almost feel the cotton cracking and the other was pressed to the wall by Canute’s head. And then they were kissing again.

Thorfinn’s tongue slipped into Canute’s mouth so readily, there was no coy foreplay. Canute wondered if he’d been staring at Thorfinn, with his mouth agape leaving zero of his desires to the imagination. He tried to push the twinge of sadness out of his mind, that he could have experienced this sooner, all the years he thought he'd never be capable of feeling this way ; The sensation of wandering hands making their way underneath his shirt, the tingle of stubbled lips hungrily placing a row of light nibbles across his jaw and neck.

Thorfinn pressed into Canute further, interlocking his thick thighs with Canute’s, the hardness of his crotch becoming alarmingly clear. He rolled his hips forward against Canute.

Canute swore that he could feel a moan from Thorfinn spill into his mouth, deep, hot and desperate. He scrambled with the lacing of Thorfinn’s shirt with one hand and yanked it over the smaller man's. He placed a shaking hand on the plane of Thorfinn’s scarred stomach. A jolt of electricity shooting through his body and into his crotch. He ran his hand down his middle and began to flick the leather of Thorfinn’s belt.

This time was different from the previous times they’d done this. Something had changed between them since the last time, since Ragnar’s death. This was on Canute’s terms. Thorfinn’s kisses were open, careful and a far cry from the first time he’d smashed their faces together and Canute tasted blood. This wasn’t like the second time either, out of lonely desperation covered in tears and the cover of night.

This time, at least from Thorfinn’s side, felt like it was born of want, not need and that made Canute’s stomach churn in the most pleasant way. 

Canute hooked his arm around Thorfinn’s waist and pulled him close again. This time he leaned into Thorfinn, getting hungrier and hungrier with every taste. He dug his fingers into Thorfinn’s ass, where he could feel the roundness of it beneath his trousers. He quickly flipped their positions, slamming Thorfinn’s back into the table with a force he wasn’t sure he was capable of. One of Canute’s hands found their way into the mess of Thorfinn’s thick hair and the other steadied on the table. His lips trailed down Thorfinn’s neck,down to his collarbone, where he nibbled hard enough to leave a mark causing Thorfinn to flush and buck forward, Canute loved how Thorfinn’s skin grew hotter underneath his lips.

Canute pressed his body closer to Thorfinn’s and pulled him in for a sloppy kiss, his hand now firmly on Thorfinn’s rock hard crotch. When Canute shifted the heel of his hand,Thorfinn moaned absurdly into his mouth. Before the moan had subsided, Canute had already begun undoing Thorfinn’s trousers.

He dropped to his knees with an awkward thud that could have been heavy enough to damage something slightly. Thorfinn watched intently as Canute pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it to the side before he ran his fingers through his golden hair. Thorfinn looked at him wide eyed, running his eyes over Canute's surprisingly broad chest and shoulders and the moles and freckles that adorned it. 

Thorfinn moved forward and tilted Canute’s head back and kissed him hungrily but somehow softer than before. This was desperate and passionate rather than animalistic. It had suddenly stopped being a competition or force of will, rather something symbiotic between them.

"Can I uh, on you?" Canute asked breathlessly.

Thorfinn nodded to Canute's surprise. 

"Have you ever done this before?"

"Never" 

The way Thorfinn had spoken before made it seem like he had, even with a woman. It made him realise that once again that he and Thorfinn weren't too different after all.

"Do you know how it works because I don't-"

There's a sudden bang on the side of the room, hard enough for the contents to shake. The shaking was met with Thorkell's booming voice, “We need to leave.” 

The two teenagers scrabbled to get dressed again, flushed and dizzy, neither of them getting the release they needed. 

"I don't feel angry anymore Thorfinn, but we will need to finish  _ this _ later." 

Thorfinn nodded and laced his tunic and barged through the curtain, followed proudly by a hooded Canute, who pressed forward closer to the crowds.

“Oh ho ho, I know that look!” Thorkell beamed.

“There’s no look”, Thorfinn's response was almost lost to the bustle of the city. 

“I don’t care but neither of you look very fresh,”

Thorfinn pointed his dagger towards Thorkell's thick neck, “There’s no look and if you say that again I'll stab out your other eye.”

Canute turned back to the other men and glared with a purposeful icy stare. 

Thorkell batted the dagger away like the blade hadn't cost him two fingers, "He seems rather happy, so whatever you did-"

"Shut up" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so so so much for reading HMU @ best-memeist on Tumblr if you wanna talk thornute!


	4. The Dangling Conversation

Canute had always liked the morning, those brief seconds before life kicks in, the seconds in which he feels new again; a blank slate, a new man in the bleary light of a new dawn. Ever since he was a child, he’d always regretted waking up after those few seconds of hazy bliss had passed. He was no longer a blank slate, the possibilities and dreams for his new life were gone, strangled by the blonde hair wrapped, like a golden cord around his neck. 

However, as Canute flirted with consciousness on this spring morning, for one of the first times in his very short life, he didn’t feel regret. The freshly bandaged arm over his chest, the thick hair tickling his nose and breathes that were taken in almost perfect symbiosis to his own, made him not dread the memories that would flood back to him after he would reluctantly remember his own name. 

This hadn’t been the first time they’d woken up together. The first time they’d woken up tangled together, Thorfinn’s eyes had been swollen shut and there was a damp patch on Canute’s tunic, where the smaller boy had slept. Neither of them had spoken about it. The first time they’d had sex, Thorfinn’s eyes had glassed over whilst he leaned into Canute, drops of salty water had fallen onto Canute’s cheeks whilst Thorfinn spilled into him with a choked sob. They didn't speak about that either. 

The first times were awkward, their bodies hadn’t been made to fit together. Their bodies had come from two different worlds. The long stripes of scars on Thorfinn’s body had left Canute unnerved, he felt like Thorfinn was about to break at any moment. Years of broken bones would crumple down when he touched him too harshly. Canute knew that Thorfinn somewhat felt the same about him, that his body had unnerved him, the absence of curves and breasts under milky skin. Canute had gotten used to that idea years ago though, when he’d wake up and wish to be someone else. 

By the time Canute was fully awake, the red morning had bled into the tent. Light filtered from beneath taupe and leather panels, illuminating the simple abode in rose coloured hues. Even Thorfinn’s daggers flickered beautiful in this light, from their place hung atop a wooden crucifix.

Thorfinn woke slowly and then all at once, his pulse hammering so quickly in his chest Canute could feel it against his own. The two rhythms played against each other in dissonant harmonies, until Thorfinn’s settled to a much more melodic tempo. 

After Thorfinn’s breathing had settled, he peered up to the taller boy for a moment. Canute knew that look, he was checking if Canute was really still there. He knew that look because he’d felt it pull on his own features as he peered up at his own battle worn lover. 

"In the Bible, they have a saying, _red sky at night, shepherd's delight_ " Canute’s hand planed over fur besides Thorfinn that was illuminated pink in the sunrise. His voice was delicate and smooth, as if not to spook Thorfinn. 

"Mhf," Canute could feel hum of Thorfinn’s response against his chest before he could finish.

" _Red sky at morning, shepherd's warning_ " 

Thorfinn screwed up his freckled nose, "What does that mean?"

"For red clouds in the evening, sunlight must have a clear path from the west, so the prevailing westerly wind must be bringing clear skies," Canute freed his arm from the confines of the furs and guestered to west, "If the morning skies are red, it is because clear skies over the horizon to the east allow the sun to light up the undersides of rain clouds." 

"Why do you know all this useless shit?”

Canute dropped his now easterly facing hand back down onto the furs with a light thunk. 

"This isn't useless this is common knowledge-"

"For princes," Thorfinn sneered and rolled away from Canute slightly, the new spring had began to melt the snow, making most of the furs unnecessary for Thorfinn, who ran hot. 

"And sailors and shepherds and anyone who goes outside-"

Thorfinn’s hands were now thrown behind his head, "I don't believe you, Princess" 

Canute was well read and observant and Thorfinn was neither of those things, he wasn’t about to get outwitted by his attractive yet decidedly single minded bodyguard, "Are you being petulant on purpose?"

" _I'd never do that_ "

Canute was about to pull rank on Thorfinn, but that had never worked before and it wasn’t going to work now. The teasing had remained relentless between the two of them, the tone had just shifted from malicious to flirtatious, at least when they were alone. 

“When your foolish ass gets caught in a rainstorm because you didn’t listen to me, just remember that I don’t care,” Canute rolled to his side away from Thorfinn in a bout of his very own petulance.

“Oh come on, a little rain never hurt anyone,”

Canute could hear the laughter in Thorfinn’s voice. He didn’t turn around to see him, he’d given up trying to catch him smiling with the laughter a long time ago.

“I don’t know, I feel like you might drown in a particularly deep puddle.”

Then came the expectant sharp jab in Canute’s side. He didn’t react.

And then, there it was again, this time a little harder, and Thorfinn’s hand lingered upon his hip bone. The hand then skirted over his stomach as he could feel Thorfinn shift onto his side and into him. Callused tips made short work of sending every nerve on his torso haywire, they pinched at his nipples, and ran carefully over the landscape of his rib cage, before settling over his hip bone again and pulling downward. 

Thorfinn hovered over Canute, resting on his bandaged arm. Even though they’d been doing this for months, the first kiss was still terrifying. He dipped down and pressed the kiss against Canute’s mouth with no consideration to Canute’s internal struggle. With no hesitancy at all, Thorfinn’s tongue made its way into Canute's open mouth. Despite Thorfinn having terrible morning breath, his heart still hammered against his chest. He could feel it swell with every flick of the other boy’s tongue.

Canute knew he would he feel this way forever with Thorfinn’s mouth on his, like someone had directly injected the sunrise into his veins and the two of them were sharing the warmth between them. 

The real question was, should he feel this way forever? 

“What is this?” The words fell out of Canute relatively absentmindedly, with Thorfinn’s mouth buried in the crook of his collar bone. The flaps of the tent shuddered in the wind, the sound of leather against leather making Canute’s question barely audible. 

The reason why this had continued with Thorfinn was not the reason it had started. Canute wasn’t entirely sure why it had started but something about the taste of blood reminded him a little of catharsis. It was something they both needed, unspoken but desperate, seeking some kind of sanity in the taste of one another in the chaos that had ruled their lives until that point. 

And then it grew past catharsis, and into companionship. Loneliness was killing them both slowly, and when they were together, it didn’t feel like they were dying. Neither of them talked about the tears that quivered in the corner of Thorfinn’s eyes when Canute’s lips were on his and they didn’t talk about the neat white scars on the back of Canute’s thighs either. They simply gave either other what they needed, silently and without question. For so long it felt like any attempt at definition of the bond they had between them would surely kill it. 

It wasn’t love, it was companionship. It was a warm hand and body for a man who’d not felt tenderness since childhood and a sense of agency for a man who’d led his entire life believing he had none. 

But now, it felt different. Thorfinn let Canute brush the tips of his cheekbones with his fingertips and run his thumb along his lower lip. Canute could ask about his father and his sister without a sinking feeling of fear. Canute let Thorfinn run his hands through Canute’s hair, letting each strand fall into one another like spun gold melting to the touch. Thorfinn could even ask about Canute’s father and Ragnar.

Being with Thorfinn was no longer careful, it was comfortable. Coming back to Thorfinn felt like walking out into fresh fallen snow, the sounds of the world lost to the blanket of puffed ice, calm, untouched even for a moment. Horrors could lay beneath the blanket but for now, it was beautiful. 

“Does it matter?” Thorfinn asked, leaning his chin on Canute’s chest, eyes glowing like warm whiskey in the torchlight.

Canute could feel lines burrow into his forehead and his lips turn downward. He removed the thumb gently stroking at the shell of Thorfinn’s ear and Thorfinn inhaled against Canute’s chest. 

Thorfinn exhaled, his warm breath tickling at Canute’s exposed skin, “Do you want it to matter?”

He hadn’t even dared himself to think of the answer to that question before this moment, “No-” 

But before he could finish his train of thought, Thorfinn had surged forward again, catching his lips in an open mouthed kiss. The kiss felt panicked and rushed at first and the sentiment lingered, that any definition of what they had would surely kill it and it seemed that Thorfinn felt the same way.

Canute ran one had over his lover’s naked back, feeling the thin welted scratches as physical memories from the night before. The scratches melded into his deep, ancient scars like tributaries running into the rivers. The skin was coarse and aged far beyond Thorfinn’s years, it made Canute’s heart ache for a moment, but he forgoed saying anything at all. The other was in Thorfinn’s hair it was thick and coarse unlike his own, the tangles matted throughout made it terribly easy for Canute to just not let go. With a hand splayed on his back he pushed him down further, Thorfinn’s dense muscular weight being the most pleasant pressure in the world.

Placing a knee between Canute’s spread thighs, Thorfinn pushed his hips into him. Canute ran his hands down the contorting muscles of Thorfinn’s back as he threaded his good hand through Canute’s hair, the golden strands had resisted tangling no matter how hard they’d tried to do so the night before. From his hair, Thorfinn moved his hand to the crook of Canute’s neck, lifting him carefully deeper into the kiss.

Thorfinn had ceased to taste the way he once did. He no longer tasted like the new excotic foods that graced his father’s table. The harshness and the newness had simply left Thorfinn’s tongue, he tasted only of warm stew on a cold day. Thorfinn’s dry lips worked against his own and Thorfinn’s thumb stroked carefully at his earlobe, sending tiny shockwaves down Canute’s body.

Canute sighed against Thorfinn’s lips and he could feel a smile pull at his own lips. He’d felt that same smile before but never had the pleasure of seeing it. They’d touched together so many times in the past months, but there was always a certain hesitancy and vulnerability in Thorfinn showing that it had actually made him happy. Thorfinn moved his lips to the sensitive earlobe and kissed it lightly, his kisses moved down the line of Canute’s neck, sucking harder once he reached below where his collars and cloaks sat. 

As Thorfinn nipped amongst the healing necklace of little bruises, Canute ran his hands below the dip of Thorfinn’s back onto narrow hips and a pert bum. The smattering of golden hair glinted in the sunrise, as the peaks of Thorfinn’s naked body moved in the semi darkness. He cupped around his ass and Thorfinn widened his position in a teasing invite. Canute slipped his fingers between his cheeks, dusting over Thorfinn lightly and somewhat more carefully than Thorfinn had done to him the night before. 

Thorfinn shuddered into the touch before he continued down further, sliding over to his left to tease a nipple with the tip of his tongue and enjoying the gasp in Canute’s breathing. He made his way down the tautness of Canute’s torso, kissing and nipping. Canute’s muscles relaxed under his soothing strokes. He resumed his mouth’s downward path.

Thorfinn wasted no time in swallowing down Canute. He barely even looked at it before he lodged it deep into his throat, as if staring at it for too long would make it disappear, make the situation disappear with a moment of hesitancy. Thorfinn was so focused on making it good for Canute that he was clearly startled by the fingers that card gently through his matted blonde locks. He peered up at Canute’s face and Canute watched him drink in the lazy pleasured expression he found there like a lost man in the tundra and swallowed again. Canute groaned and let out a shudder that he knew Thorfinn could feel behind his Adam’s apple as Thorfinn had done the same for him, just eight hours earlier.

"Thorf-" Canute cried and tears pricked in the corner of his eyes. He was almost there almost at the edge of the cliff, he didn't want this to end just yet, he wasn't ready to jump.

With one movement he hooked his leg under the smaller man and pushed him away, he didn't quite think through kicking the person with his mouth around his penis until Thorfinn was pouting at him atop a mess of grey furs.

"The sky is red, the sun is still rising. We have time." 

Thorfinn's pout grew into something solemn for a moment. He knew that look, he knew what glistened behind those eyes, the magic that casts a spell on the moment. Canute silently asked for the moment to last with him. 

The red sky spilled across the two of them, bound in furs and each other. Thorfinn suddenly began to kiss like they had when they first began, panicked and frantic. Canute broke them apart with kindness, a hand on his cheek, a thumb caressing over swollen lips. Thorfinn's pulse was erratic and his eyes began to glass over. Canute placed a small kiss on those lips that parted with a choked smile. 

Then, Canute finally got his hand around Thorfinn's length, it’s thick and heavy in his grasp. He stroked his hand over it, slicking it up with the precome leaking from the head. Thorfinn became pliant in his hands, a puddle of pleasure and release, just like he always had been and Canute breathed him in like he's the most wonderful thing in the universe.

Thorfinn swung his legs over Canute, his body straddling Canute’s slender thighs and narrow hips. Canute pulled him into him again, this time more aggressively, possessively. Canute’s fingertips dipped into the small of Thorfinn’s back, pulling him in as close as he can.

"I want you,” Thorfinn whispered so quietly Canute wasn't sure if it was supposed to be said out loud. Canute dove into a kiss as he lets his hand trail between Thorfinn’s legs again and traced around his hole before pushing one finger in all to the knuckle. Thorfinn lifted his legs further and moaned with the sensation.

Canute kissed into Thorfinn’s hair, tracing his tongue over his earlobe, nibbling carefully and hums when he feels Thorfinn shiver beneath his touch. He curled his finger into that sweet spot, that both the blondes had made full use in exploiting in each other, over the past months and Thorfinn gasped and leaned into Canute’s hand. He slid in another finger as he wanted whisper into Thorfinn what he’d really been thinking, 

_I want to make you feel like this forever_ , but the pool of sadness pooling in the back of his head stopped him. 

Instead, Canute moved down to between Thorfinn’s legs. He pushed in the third finger and took Thorfinn’s aching cock into his mouth. He bobbed his head up and down rhythmically while using his tongue over Thorfinn's pink head. Thorfinn’s moans were strung together haphazardly yet they were soft, heavy and beautiful in Canute’s ears. Then, Thorfinn moaned so loudly he’s sure someone on the other side of the thin leather panels could hear it. The thought was oddly thrilling.

“Fuck me, please fuck me, you fucking bastard, I can’t last like this” Thorfinn begged and Canute could feel him tighten around his long fingers. 

Then Thorfinn laid backwards out onto the bed, plains of scarred muscle glinting in the light, his cock swollen and leaking, eyes attentive and intense. 

“Are you ready?” Canute asked as he held himself over Thorfinn.

Thorfinn can’t do anything but nod and tweak his hips upward and spread his legs.

Canute pushed the head of his cock into Thorfinn, causing the smaller blonde to nearly yelp from the sensation. As he adjusted and made sure that Thorfinn was ready he pushed himself all the way in.

“Canute,” Thorfinn arched his back and Canute feel his breath leave him for a few seconds.

“Jesus.”

Canute had begun to move into him, his hips rocking slowly at first and Thorfinn is clinging onto him, fingers on his good hand curled around Canute’s wrists above his head, Thorfinn’s hand hot against his somewhat cooler skin. 

“Thorfinn” he whispered and leaned down to kiss him again, his long hair tickling the skin on Thorfinn's face, the golden curtain around their two faces cocooned them from the rest of the world. His body glistened with sweat and by each thrust he gives he takes Thorfinn’s breath away and giving it back to him through their desperate kisses. “Fuck” he straightened back up, grabbed hold of Thorfinn’s leg and pushes in hard with a snap of his own hips.

“I’m not gonna-ah!” Thorfinn screwed his eyes shut as he Canute hit his prostate over and over, and leaned his face into the pillow. “I’m, fuck, right there” he whimpered, strained as he feels the familiar white hot feeling pool in the gut of his stomach.

“Thorfinn, I’m-” Canute stilled, his body falling onto Thorfinn and he grabs a hold of Thorfinn’s chin, his cock pulsating inside of Thorfinn as he comes.

“Thorfinn?” Canute asked, face cooling against Thorfinn's chest.

Canute could fell Thorfinn playing with the strands of his hair, watching the gold take on the red light of the morning, bottling it for later.

“Mhhm”

“Do you trust me?” the words were dry in Canute's mouth. He'd spent so long ordering men around and hadn't stopped once to see if they believed in the man giving them.

There was a pause, but it wasn't deafening, it didn't feel loaded with dread but rather a careful consideration from a man who rarely paused for anything, “I do.” 

“I trust you too” Canute tilted his head to look at Thorfinn's face, still flush from the orgasm, “Do you trust what I’m doing? If God won't help us, maybe I can.”

Once again this morning, Thorfinn's face screwed up in confusion.

“I’m doing it for you, for people like you who grow up without fathers, whose families are taken as spoils of war,” he explained, the calmness in his voice unwavering even though he felt like crying against the scarred chest, “This world doesn’t have to be hell.”

“I’m never going to change the world,” Thorfinn's voice was low and definitive, like there was nothing that could ever change that. He ran his calloused fingertips over Canute's cheek bones.

“Maybe, but I can” Canute savoured gentle touches, knowing that one day they'll cease, “and you can help me, if you want that.”

And just like he predicted, the soft touches stopped and Thorfinn's hand hovered over his face.

“ _Okay_ ” 

Having Thorfinn was unfair, gentle touches between them and gentler words between them when the other seemed to not be paying attention had spoiled him to his core. He could not lead the new world whilst being bound to the vestiges of the old. Perhaps, if he and Thorfinn had met a different time or in a different life, in which they weren’t bound to be shackled to their own pasts. In this life they could never shake the sanctuary they’d built in one another, he knew that whenever they looked at one another, they would only ever see what they were running from. 

And to truly love something, he had to let it go, no matter the cost. 

“ _Thorfinn,_ ” his name fell from Canute’s lips with so much yearning, he wasn’t sure if the voice was even his. Perhaps, subconsciously, that's the way he wanted Thorfinn to remember his name, not with malice or sadness, but with the warmth of someone who truly needed him. 

“Let me sleep,” 

Canute prepared himself, he’d spent so long in his life being alone, he’d never once thought he would even need to ask someone to leave. He collected himself and began, “I think you should go.”

“‘S’cold,” Thorfinn groaned in retaliation not opening his eyes. 

“I think we should stop, _this_ ” Canute gestured between the two of them, still unable to define the time they’d shared together. A time that had escaped definition but truly overflowed with meaning. 

“It’s not fair,” Canute’s voice threatened to falter but held steadfast. 

By now Thorfinn’s eyes were open and shooting daggers into the royal, “Not fair on who?”

“On the rest of the world, the world I'm trying to build, it’s not fair that I have you-”

“We’re only _fucking_ ,” Thorfinn hissed in interruption. 

Whatever time they had spent together would not be simplified to just _fucking_. He knew that, and more importantly, Thorfinn knew that. Canute tilted his head to the side with quirked eyebrows and a knowing look. Thorfinn’s face withdrew into itself and Canute could feel the building emptiness that radiated from him. 

Then, Thorfinn clambered from the bed and into his clothes without a second word. Canute thought it best not to look as he pulled together the fastenings on his shirt. 

“You know why I have to do this?” Canute asked.

Despite their inability to discuss anything, there were some things that were just understood without the need for too many words. 

His voice was clear and honest, “I do. ” 

Thorfinn fastened his belt and adjusted his weapons and began to walk out of the tent. 

He let his hand hover above his head, holding the leather still. The final vestiges of red light flooded the room. He waited for a moment in that light as nothing but a silhouette. 

“I still trust you,” Canute could hear the morning birds before Thorfinn added, “ _Canute,_ ” with exact same ferocious tenderness he had afforded Thorfinn earlier. 

Canute cleared his throat, “I trust you too.”

And as Thorfinn’s footsteps paced in the new light, Canute thought to himself, what they had between them, it wasn’t love, but it should have been.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely adored writing for these 2. I wanted to keep this fic canon (ish) but there are some very fluffy fics currently in the mix - I got u fam. 
> 
> @me @littlevillamaux on tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> nidsk drew art of this based on chapter three, and it sent me absolutely feral : https://nidsk.tumblr.com/post/189812386666/inspired-by-red-skies-ahead


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